I glared up at him through the wet strands of hair plastered to my face, every muscle coiled tight with the urge to snap. His thumb lingered at the seam of my lips, patient, arrogant, like he already knew the exact second I would break.My tongue flicked out, just enough to taste the salt on his skin before I closed my lips around the pad of his thumb and bit down. Not hard enough to draw blood but just enough to make him hiss.He didn’t flinch. Instead, the corner of his mouth kicked higher.“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise landing like a slap. “Now use that mouth the way it’s meant to be used.”I wanted to spit venom. I wanted to claw his eyes out. But the traitorous heat between my legs was screaming louder than my pride, and the longer I knelt here, naked, dripping, trembling, the more undeniable it became.I hated him.I hated that I was going to do this anyway.Slowly, I leaned forward and my hands came up to brace on his thick thighs, nails digging in just enough to remind
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